


The Threads that Bind Us

by Atlanta_Black



Series: Show me where the lines begin to blur [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Character Death, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Muggle AU, Past Lives, does this even count as a coffee shop AU anymore??, off the wall coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 04:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlanta_Black/pseuds/Atlanta_Black
Summary: One. Hari Potter grows up with loving parents and siblings and still it feels as if the weight of the world lies upon his shoulders.Two. Tom Riddle grows up with his father, surrounded by wealth and yet still he feels the need to be better, better, better.Three. Fate is growing tired of these two constantly passing by each other in all the wrong ways...... sometimes, sometimes he still wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath. Dark, dark eyes lingering behind his eyelids and the image of wrists that look far to much like his own with long fingers wrapped around them and blood, dripping dripping dripping …





	1. In the beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tetsurashian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsurashian/gifts).



> This is my halloween gift for the absolutely amazing tetsurashian!  
> This story got away from me so fast and I absolutely love where it went.  
> Due to my life and school and work being an absolute mess I'm not quite done with this yet but the rest is coming, I promise!

Sometimes, Hari felt like his life was just one long string of decisions that led to the biggest train wreck to ever be witnessed by mankind. Sometimes, he felt that his life was a string of decisions that led to the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Most days, it felt like a little bit of both. 

_ Born to those who have thrice defied him… born as the seventh month dies. _

The Fates have had their eye on Hari’s thread since the moment he began existing. 

_ round and round the wheel he goes…  _

.

.

.

_ July 1991 _

When Hari was eleven, James and Lily packed up their house and moved. Marigold and Sara had both been a little too young to clearly remember the tiny town they had lived in, but Hari remembers the sprawling fields that stretched on for ages at the edge of the town. Remembers the graveyard at the edge and the statue of a man with a sword on his back in the middle of the town square. 

He remembers the way that a lot of the townspeople had turned up their nose at his dad and the way they had tried to convince his mum to leave them. He also remembers the day someone had tried to kidnap Sara out of her stroller, saying that it was for his mum's own good and that she didn't need anything else tying her to  _ that man.  _

_ W _ hen it had happened Hari hadn't really understood the implications of what the lady had screamed at his mum, but the older he got the angrier that memory made him. 

. 

They move into a huge, airy townhouse in London, only a few miles from where Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus live. 

For a few years life is fine. Marigold thrives in the big city. Comes home ecstatic about going to school where there are other children who look like her. Sara had only been four when they moved and didn't really notice a change other than now she had a bigger house to run around in. 

Mum and Dad still look stressed and still throw worried looks over their shoulders when they're out but it's calmer. Their family feels more at peace. 

And then, as usual, when everything seems at its most peaceful, things began to go downhill. 

.

.

.

_ September 1991 _

Hari's first day of school seems as if it will pass by uneventfully. He's sort of made friends with a boy named Dean who sits next to him in most of their classes, and there's a quiet, clumsy boy who Hari spent a good bit of time chatting with at lunch. But so far Hari hasn't had any life changing school experiences. 

Then near the end of lunch, Hari's getting ready to head back to class when he spots a girl sitting outside, a book nearly the size of her head in her lap and a group of about four kids forming a sort of semi-circle around her. The looks on their faces are anything but kind and Hari feels a shiver of anger run down his spine. 

Later, Hari won't be able to really remember exactly what is said, but he'll always remember the look of surprise on her face when he stands up for her. He almost thinks that it works, that the bullies will leave, but then one of the kids, a blonde with an obnoxiously pointed face makes a comment about trash seeking out trash, and Hari's punched him before he even really realizes his fist is flying. 

He gets suspended for two days, and mum and dad both look disappointed and sad. But on the way into the house dad ruffles his hair and mum gives him an extra long hug before sending him to his room. 

.

Her name is Hermione. This is her second year at Croton Primary School and from what Hari has gathered she has no friends, thanks mostly to the same group of kids that had been bullying her when Hari had gotten involved.  It makes Hari's blood boil, he'd only gotten to talk to Hermione for a little bit since lunch yesterday, but she had seemed like a nice person. Later, when he's talking with his parents about why he'd gotten into the fight, he watches the lines around his dad's eyes tighten, and his mom squeezes his hand just a little tighter. And in that moment, he feels the first shreds of bitterness start to form. 

_ There will never be a world where injustice settles well on Hari’s shoulders, never be a world where he can stand back and not get involved in the injustice that is life.  _

.

The school year passes by, and while Harri makes other friends, Hermione ends up being his closest friend. She's wicked smart and, while occasionally overbearing, she's more loyal than anyone he's ever met outside of his family. 

She gets a bullied a lot though. She's too smart, too ugly, hair too bushy, teeth too big, skin too dark and Hari ends up getting into more fights that year than he really should. 

Hermione tries her best to get him to stop defending her. Tries her best to get him to just chill out, sit back, and focus on his studies.

 

"Hari, Hari, listen, they're not important. Their words don't matter." she mutters to him one day, the two of them huddled behind the bleachers at lunch. He's scowling at the ground, Malfoy's words still ringing in his ears -

_ It's a pity you don't look like you're mother, Potter. A pity that you always hang out around trash. A pity that you -- _

"Words always matter," he says and watches the way she eyes him, sadness still lingering in the creases around her eyes. 

"You're right. Words matter, but theirs don't." She takes his hand and squeezes it once. "I'm going to be great Hari. I'm going to make myself so great they have no choice but to respect me." 

He watches the way the sun lingers on her skin and thinks that he believes her. 

"I'll be right there beside you, Hermione. Watching your back like always." 

Hermione smiles and the bell rings and they rush back to class. 

.

_ October 1991 _

The first time Hermione meets Sirius she stares for a very long moment before turning to Hari with a betrayed face. 

“Hari, when you said, hey, come meet my godfather, he’s really cool, you’ll really like him. Did you forget to mention something?”

He sends her a blank look, “Um… He can be kind of berk when he first meets people?” 

She sighs, running a hand over her face. “You didn’t think to mention that he’s Sirius Black. The same Sirius Black who made headlines for months when inherited his family's estate. The same estate that is home to a library that houses some of the rarest books in England?”

Sirius barks out a laugh at the same time as Hari, and really, he hadn’t even thought about that, but he should have known she would. 

“Tell me, sweetheart, how many times did you try to think of a way to sneak into that library?” Sirius asks, still chuckling. 

Hermione bares her teeth at him, a mimicry of a smile. “Who says I haven’t already found a way to sneak in there?” 

And Sirius, for just a minute, looks like he believes her, says: “There’s no way. The security system on that house is insane. How would a little thing like you ever have gotten in?”

“I’ll guess you’ll never know. But next time you’re near the library tell me if  _ The Codex of Leicester  _ is still there?” She wanders off toward the kitchen, leaving Sirius to stare after her, a perplexed frown on his face. 

“I know she’s lying. I do, but I still have the urge to go look for that book.” 

Hari laughs before following Hermione into the kitchen. 

Later, when Remus arrives Hermione sees the book he’s got with him and immediately latches onto his side, all smiles and intelligence, and Remus instantly loves her. 

Sirius never does get Remus to understand why he pretends to be scared of her, and Hermione takes great pleasure in laughing at Sirius. 

_ Later, this is one of the memories that Hari looks back on when he feels as if he’s going to break apart from grief.  _

_ And there are oh so many moments to come.  _

.

.

.

_ July 1994 _

Before you know it, Hari's almost thirteen, Hermione fourteen, and it seems as if everything will stay calm. As if life has looked at them all and said  _ okay, just this once, you deserve a break _ .

_ (Like fate had looked at this child and said just this once you get to keep everyone you love. Just this once I won't rip them away from you.) _

Two weeks before Hari's thirteenth birthday they get a call. He watches his dad pick up the phone and all the color drains out of his face; watches the phone slip out of his fingers. When his mum picks up the phone, she holds it for less than a minute before she goes sickly white and tears start trailing down her face.

_ Sirius is dead. _

__

Mari screams and cries and refuses to come out of her room --

Sara goes quiet, still too young to truly understand the idea of death, but she understand that Siri is gone and he’s never coming back. She goes quiet, and it is weeks before she talks again. 

Dad sits on a chair, blank faced, eyes dry, and Hari thinks that this is what it's like to watch someone die while they're still living. 

_ (It's hours before James musters the will to get up, to go try and comfort Sara and Mari. Before he thinks to go look for Hari. Days before he can figure out how to breathe without his heart feeling as if it will fall out of his chest.) _

Lily has been outside of Mari's door since she slammed it shut, crying and trying to reason with her; trying to keep an eye on Sara. And, in all the chaos and the grief, Hari just quietly leaves. 

Looks around the house now saturated with grief, looks at his family shattering apart; and goes to the only person that will understand that it's rage not grief building in his chest. 

He shows up at Hermione's house, face blank, eyes red and she takes one look at him and tells her parents they're going for a walk. 

They end up at an empty park, the sun nearly gone and Hari  _ breaks-- _

Hermione sits quietly on a swing and watches him scream and cry and when he finally sags onto a bench she sits beside him, she holds his hand and they talk quietly about all the great times they had had with Sirius. All the fun times. All the ways he had loved Remus. And the way he had never given a thought to anyone's skin color. 

Hari cries. Hermione grips his hand so tight her fingers go numb. 

They sit there for what feels like hours,  _ and that could have been the end _

_ Hari could have started to heal, but fate, fate, fate _

_ Fate has always had her claws sunk deeply under his skin, this life is no exception _

.

Two months later they learn that the drunk driver who had struck and killed Sirius on his motorcycle has gotten off free. The bitterness and anger in his stomach grows tighter, and he watches something hard settle in the back of Hermione's eyes. 

_ Injustice has never settled well in their stomachs and this time it's so much more personal.  _

Remus spends more time on their couch than in his house, and there are days where Hari is scared the grief is going to take Remus away from them too. 

There are months where his dad sleeps on the couch next to Remus more than he sleeps in his own bed. 

Months where his mom’s smiles never reach her eyes. 

_ In this life, James has to learn to live without Sirius. Always one dies, always one destined to live with the grief of losing a brother.  _

.

_ September 1993 _

Life moves on. 

And then, in between one breath and the next, they're back in school and expected to sit down, shut up, and listen. 

_ Hari is beginning to get really tired of listening.  _

.

.

Hari goes home one day in the middle of September and finds out his mum's expecting - 

_ A life for a death _ , he hears her whisper when she thinks no one is listening. 

There are days where Hari wishes he could trade this new life back for Siri. 

Wishes they had Siri, not this child growing in his mum's belly. 

.

Deodan Sirius Potter is born February 23rd and Hari _ loves _ him-

fucking aches with loving him with still being burdened down by grief.

_ There are days where Mari looks at him, eyes still angry and he thinks she sees everything he's been trying to push down since Siri died. But the moment always passes  _

.

.

Life moves on. 

And as much things change, some things always stay the same.       


	2. fate is calling your name

 

The memories always start out with darkness and anger and too small bedrooms.

The memories always start off with him, sitting in the middle of the room, looking at the walls and asking --

_why why why, why did you leave, why am i alone, why do they hate me_

It's years until he grasps the answer to his question.

It happens like this, Tom Riddle grows up angry and ready to take back what he feels the world owes him. This doesn’t change.

But fate looks at him and says okay, just this once, lets give you a chance for something resembling redemption.

.

.

It happens like this…

.

.

.

 

September 30th, 2000 | 5:45am.

 

Hari is working a morning shift at the coffee shop and is in the middle of stocking the pastry case when tall, dark and handsome walks in.

“Good morning, welcome to Busy Bees!” he calls out. The guy doesn’t even bother lifting his head and Hari feels his mood sour slightly. It was going to be one of those days then. “What can I get for you today?” he asks, keeping his tone as pleasant as possible considering the guy still hasn’t looked up from where he’s furiously typing away on his cellphone.

And really, furious is the only way to describe it.

“Quad, hazelnut latte, no foam, extra hot,” the guys snaps out, still not looking up from his phone. Hari can feel his eye twitching, he hates people like this. They act like they’ve never heard of having some fucking manners.

“Brilliant, can I get you anything else?”

“Clearly not since I didn’t ask for anything else,” the guys snaps and Hari’s mouth falls open.

There’s a long moment where Hari says nothing and the guy continues typing on his phone, but finally, the silence seems to register and the guy looks up at Hari for the first time since entering the building.

Hari swears he feels his lungs _cave_ in from the force of the guys eyes. The guy has dark, dark, nearly black eyes and _Hari is caught, is captivated, is_ \--

Is being stared at like he's a fucking insect that needs to be squashed under this guy's shoe and doesn’t that just make his fucking blood burn.

 

“Well, are you going to give me my total are or you going to continue staring at me like the dimwit you clearly are?” the guy says, drawing his words out as if he thinks Hari’s an idiot.

Hari tilts his head, considers the guy for a few moments before deciding that no, it is too early for this much bullshit.

 

“I don't think I will. You can leave,” he says, proud of the way his voice stays completely calm despite the way his lungs have seized up at the way the guys eyes have gone even darker with anger.

 

“Oh, I see,” he says, voice quiet, “I think I’d like to speak with your manager in that case.”

“I am the manager,” Hari says and feels a surge of satisfaction at the aggravation that passes over the guys face.

“Brilliant, well then I would like to speak to the owner.”

Hari smirks, “She’s over in the corner, good luck.” he says, waving a hand towards the back corner of the store that customers usually overlook when they come in.

There’s a long moment where they both just stare at the corner and Hari almost feels bad for doing this but he was too tired to deal with this bullshit.

Hermione however, never seems phased by the bullshit that customers throw at her daily.

It was quite a sight to see though. Hermione was currently bent over a book, highlighter tucked behind one ear, a pen in her hand furiously jotting down notes, hair a wild mess around her head, two stacks of books on the ground next to her, another stack on the table, a book bag that was clearly ready to burst and a furious scowl on her face as she absorbs whatever she’s reading.

At this point most customers would have just left. The Rude Guy however, just takes Hermione in for a moment before huffing out an aggravated sigh and heading over towards her table.

Hari does attempt to listen to their conversation, especially since Rude Guy is complaining about him, but shortly after they start talking the rest of the staff starts showing up and the morning rush begins and Hari is too busy trying to keep up with the cups to really remember that Rude Guy is even there.

  
It’s four hours later, Hari is in the middle of talking with a regular, when he glances over at Hermione’s corner and realizes Rude Guy is _still there_. Something in his brain short circuits at the sight of his best friend and one of the rudest customers he’s gotten so far, sitting together, both furiously arguing about something and Hari is --

 

“Excuse me!” he jerks his head back around only to almost run directly into a coffee cup with his face.

“Yes, sir. How can I help you?” apparently this was the wrong thing to ask since next thing he knows the man is screaming obscenities at him. Screaming about how the coffee tastes like gutter water and how the service here is awful and how he didn’t know what he had expected when he’d walked in here, but it wasn’t to be served this absolute trash and--

Hari grits his teeth and smiles through it.

 

It’s right as he’s watching the man pull his hand back to throw the coffee across the counter that it happens. Almost as if in slow motion he watches the man pull his hand back to throw the coffee and then watches long, pale fingers wrap around the man’s wrist effectively halting his arm and speech all at once.

 

Hari follows the fingers to a pale hand. To a crisp, neatly pressed dress shirt. To broad shoulders. To a face that is at once both beautiful and terrifying. The Rude Guy from earlier this morning, who had just been at the table with Hermione, is standing behind the angry old man, eyes hard and face so, so cold. Hari had thought he had been angry this morning when Hari had refused service but that had been merely an annoyance compared to the rage tightening his features now.

 

The old man turns in a rage, but draws up short at the sight of the guy standing behind him. Well dressed and looking as if he is going to call down the wrath of the heavens on this man.

“So, tell me, Crabbe, is this what you get up to in your free time?”  Hari’s eyes widen, of course they know each other. Of course the two problem customers of the day would know each other.

“Riddle! Sir, of course not. I generally conduct myself in a fashion suitable for a man of my position, but the service here today was so atrocious and the boy that served it was too busy staring at some girl who doesn’t look fit to be out in public that he made my drink wrong and --” Crabbe continues to ramble on for a few more moments, his panicked rambling very loud in the suddenly very quiet store.

Every customer and employee has stopped to watch the spectacle going on in the normally peaceful coffee shop. And, the longer the guy rambles the colder Riddle’s face gets, the harder his eyes become, and from where Hari is standing, he can see how tightly Riddle is still gripping Crabbe’s wrist. It looks _painful and Hari cannot  bring himself to look away._

“Tell me something, Crabbe,” Riddle finally cuts his rambling off, clearly having heard enough, “The college girl that the barista was supposedly staring at, did it happen to be _her_ ?” he motions behind him to Hermione, who has been leaning against the condiment bar, quietly watching, face assessing and Hari feels his skin grow cold, that fucking bastard.

_Being judged for the color of their skin was nothing new but it still stung, still made his skin tighten with rage._

 

“Yes! See, I mentioned not looking fit to be in public and you knew exactly who I had been speaking about! She’s --” but whatever he was going to say is cut off as Riddle very purposely reaches up to grab him by the jaw.

“Listen to me very carefully, Crabbe. That girl, that you seem to have such a low opinion of, is the owner of this establishment. She’s already at least five times smarter than you. That barista, the one you were about to throw scalding hot coffee all over, is her brother and the first person to show any type of spine when talking to me in far too long.” Crabbe’s face has gone a sickly, pasty white color and Hari is standing there shell shocked, wondering who the hell is this guy that he can speak to people like this and no one in our store has said a word. Wondering how the hell their morning interaction had turned into something positive.

“That’s enough.” Hermione’s voice is firm and Riddle glances over his shoulder at her, face disinterested before glancing at Hari and Hari doesn’t know what he sees but he shoves Crabbe away from him with barely a glance.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to cause a scene. Crabbe, don’t bother showing up to the office tomorrow,” and then he walks out the front door without another look at any of them. Crabbe follows seconds later, a fearful anxious look still on his face and as he rushes past the counter Hari notices blood trailing down his wrist from where Riddle had dug his nails in.

Hari and Hermione lock eyes and God, his face must be something else because her eyebrows immediately crease into a worried frown.

“Luna, Ginny can you two handle the store till Pansy gets here?” she calls and Hari glances over his shoulder to see Ginny and Luna both nodding, eyes still wide from the scene they had all witnessed.

“Hari, let’s go.” and Hari has never been so happy to get out of the coffee shop, has never left with his chest feeling so heavy, his skin so tight.

_If this is the way he feels after just being around Riddle when angry, he can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have the weight of those eyes fully upon him._

.

.

.

.

They don’t say a word until they get to Hari’s house, Lily pokes her head out of the kitchen briefly, a worried frown on her face since they’re never home this early but they wave her off with a smile and head up to Hari’s room.

 

Hari closes his door and immediately flings himself onto his bed, smashing his face into the blankets and letting out a muffled scream.

“Hari. Is that really necessary?” Hermione says, voice dry.

He sits up with a groan, she’s sitting at his desk, arms crossed on the back of the chair, and just watching him, that same worried frown on her face.

“We’ve been open for a year. An entire year and not once have I ever felt so utterly embarrassed while on the clock.”

“Hari, “ she begins, voice careful. “Do you know who that was?”

“Who? Tall, dark and utterly rude. The Riddle guy? Why would I know who he is?”

Hermione sighs, mouth twisting down and levels him with an unimpressed stare. “That’s _Tom Riddle_ .”

Hari stares at her blankly before he drawls: “Okay?”

She throws her hand up, frustration clearing away some of the worry still lingering on her face. “Do you ever watch the news? Ever read the paper?”

“I do! Sometimes... when the headlines look interesting,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling defensive. Who the fuck was this guy that he had Hermione so flustered.

“Tom Riddle is the CEO of Riddle Pharmaceuticals. Only the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the country. His grandfather was absolutely brilliant and helped develop so many new medications that there were rumors he was stealing ideas from other people. His father focused more on the business aspect of the company but still graduated with highest honors from Cambridge and wrote several papers about different aspects of the industry. One of those papers was published in the New England Journal of Medicine and talked about --”

“Alright! Hermione, that’s enough!” he cuts her off, knowing that if she actually starts talking about the article she’ll never stop. “I get it. He has money, his families beyond wealthy. What’s so special about him though.”

“He inherited the company earlier this year.” she hesitates, something wary in the expression on her face. “He inherited the company and spent five months under investigation because people think he murdered his father.”

Hari’s mouth falls open. “I’m sorry, he what now. Why the fuck was he in our coffee shop? Actually, why the fuck did you spend all morning talking to him then?” Hari’s skin feels cold again, thinking back to how he had spoken to Riddle that morning.

“He’s brilliant, Hari. And he was cleared of all charges so…” she trails off, shrugging and Hari resists the urge to go shake her by the shoulders.

“Hermione, “ he takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just because someone is brilliant is not a good reason to hang out around potentially dangerous men.”

Hermione flushes and before they can speak about it anymore Lily is calling them down to dinner.

.

.

_Weeks pass, and after a bit, Hari pushes Riddle out of his mind. Pushes away thoughts of dark eyes and long fingers and blood dripping down wrists._

 

_But sometimes, sometimes he still wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath. Dark, dark eyes lingering behind his eyelids and the image of wrists that look far to much like his own with long fingers wrapped around them and blood, dripping dripping dripping …_

 

 

 

 

  
  



	3. If there was a god he would be laughing

He wishes he could say that the dreams stopped. That he stopped waking up chest heaving. That he stopped waking up with that name lingering on his tongue.

 

The dreams don’t stop. Two months later and he is still dreaming of eyes so vivid he could drown in them; is still dreaming of the way his lungs felt as though they were caving in from the pure want that he still can’t seem to shake.

 

He wishes, wishes, _wishes_ for something that he can barely even put into words. Wishes that he had some explanation for the need coursing through him after that one meeting. Wishes he understood why he feels so inexplicably drawn to this other guy.

 

_Are we talking about Hari or Tom? Does it matter? Their souls have always been so closely intertwined that they can’t help but crave the other._

 

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not._

 

A prophecy from another life, but it rings true no matter where they are. It lingers in their blood and every life, every life they’re drawn back towards each other.

.

.

.

 

November 15th, 2000 | 4:00am.

 

Wednesday morning starts with Hari and Hermione shivering on their way to the coffee shop. The temperatures have dropped even lower in the past week and Hari is greatly regretting every decision that led up to him being outside in the cold at four in the bloody morning.

 

Hari slogs through the next hour in a cold, exhausted haze, too tired to think about anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. Exams are in a month, the store has been getting steadily busier and busier, and he is ready to collapse.

 

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when 10 minutes after unlocking the doors, Tom Riddle walks in. It shouldn’t have.

 

Yet, Hari still finds himself coming to a dead stop to stare at the other man.

 

Tom Riddle had not come back to Busy Bees since the scene he had caused nearly two months ago and Hari had honestly thought he would never see the man again.

 

_Had hoped that the dreams would stop and eventually he would just forget about the other man all together._

 

Riddle isn’t on his phone this time, in fact, his eyes have been fixed on Hari since he walked in the door. Fixed on Hari with an unnerving intensity, and Hari can feel his palms sweating and hopes that this day does not go anything like the last one.

 

“Good morning! What can I get for you today?” he says, making the split second idea to see if he can get away with playing dumb.

 

Riddle’s eyes narrow and Hari holds back a sigh. Clearly his life wasn’t going to be that easy today.

 

“Tell me, do you forget all your customers so easily or just the ones you don’t like, _Hari_?”

 

Hari breathes in. Breathes out. Reminds himself that he is not allowed to throw things at customers. He is not allowed to tell customers to please fuck off and please not say his name.

 

“I never forget a customer,” he finally says, voice dry. “What can I get for you?”

 

“If you never forget a customer then why didn’t you greet me by name?”

 

“It slipped my mind. What would you like to drink?” he’s not sure he can get his voice any dryer than it currently is.

 

There’s a long pause where Tom just tilts his head and stares at Hari,eyes assessing, and Hari feels as if he’s about to crawl out of his skin just to get away from this entire uncomfortable encounter.

 

“You want to know what I want?”

 

“Yes, I’d like to know what to ring you up for.” Is he being dense on purpose? Did he come back to just get under Hari’s skin?

 

“I want you to go on a date with me.”

 

Hari looks down at the computer screen, prepared to ring in a coffee, but then the words register and his head snaps back up so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t break something.

 

“I’m sorry, you want what now? I must have misheard you.” And he knows the words come out too fast, knows his voice is too high, knows his hands are shaking but all he can do is stand there and stare in disbelief.

 

Tom smirks. “I said, I want you to go on a date with me.”

Hari gapes. Looks around the store wildly half expecting cameras to pop out and someone to scream that he’s being punked but nothing happens. Nothing happens except that Tom is still standing there, still staring.

 

Tom asked him out.

 

Tom Riddle asked him out.

 

Tom  “Mr. probably murdered his father” Riddle asked him out and ---

 

_(and there’s a moment where Hari hesitates and Tom’s eyes light up with triumph and Hari’s breath is stuck in his throat and he aches aches aches ---)_

 

Hari says no.

 

“Absolutely not.” And his voice is shaking, but he said no and he can feel the edge of the counter biting into his hands and he can’t seem to figure out how to breath properly but he said no.

 

There are two bright red splotches high on Tom’s cheeks and his eyes have gone dark with anger and Hari is glad he said no.

 

Is glad he will never be subject to that anger. Is happy, is ---

 

(is _still aching, is wishing he knew what Tom’s eyes looked like when he had Hari pinned against a wall, is wishing ---)_

 

The moment ends.

 

Tom doesn’t say anything else. Whether that is because he is too angry to speak or because he has nothing to say, Hari doesn’t know, but he turns and stalks out the door without another word.

 

_The image of dark angry eyes stays imprinted on the back of Hari’s eyelids for days and he dreams of kissing and his back against a wall and pain and blood dripping, always blood dripping._

_._

_._

_._

Hari doesn’t tell anyone about the encounter. Hermione had been in the back when it had happened and he knew if he mentioned it she’d get this worried crease between her eyebrows again and he didn’t want to do that to her.

 

The first encounter encounter had left him feeling out of sorts for days and Hermione had spent weeks speaking to him as if he was going to break. He hated making her worry and he hated that he couldn’t figure out why this guy had such a profound effect on him and he hated, hated how much he wanted to find out what his skin felt like and his lips and what that hair would feel like sliding through his fingers and how it would feel to be completely taken apart ---

_Every life, every life there’s always a turning point and every life they manage to miss each other_

_._

_._

_._

 

December 1st, 2000 | 2:00pm.

 

Life goes on.

 

Hari does his best to put Tom out of his mind, and with holiday season in full swing and finals steadily creeping closer that ends up being easier than expected.

 

Hari is in the process of rummaging through his bag for his gloves as he leaves the science lab one Friday when he full body runs into someone. He would have fallen and busted his ass if not for a strong hand snapping out to grab him by his arm and tug him upright.

 

The entire ordeal takes about thirty seconds and ends with Hari gripping the guy’s coat sleeve, and the stranger is still holding him by his arm, and Hari is so close he can smell his cologne, a heavy forrest type smell that causes Hari’s mind to flash back to Godric’s hollow.

 

“Well, isn’t this quite the coincidence?” Tom’s voice washes over Hari like ice water.

 

He jerks back slower than he would have liked and takes the time to straighten his clothes, trying to will his hands into not shaking and then he glances up, head still partially bowed. Tom is staring directly at him. There’s an amused glint lighting up his eyes but it’s overshadowed by the burning in them as they trace over Hari and Hari feels as if he is _shattering._

 

“What are you doing here?” he demands, voice harsh. He doesn’t have time for this. Doesn’t need another interaction with someone who already won’t get out of his head.

 

“No need to be so hostile,” Tom says, voice smooth, “I’m merely here on business with Lucius.” He motions behind him and sure enough, there stands Lucius Malfoy in all his pretentious glory.

 

The sight of Lucius Malfoy in all his snobby finery suddenly brings Hari’s attention to what Tom is wearing, and Hari can feel his cheeks start to burn. His hoodie and sweatpants are a stark contrast to the suit that Tom is wearing. The suit that is clinging to every single contour of his body, and now that Hari has noticed how bloody gorgeous Tom looks, he can’t seem to look away.

 

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t stalking me.” he finally mutters, hating the way Tom’s eyes flare up with amusement again.

 

Malfoy scoffs and Hari turns on him so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

 

“So, tell me Malfoy.” he snarls, “How’s that son of yours doing?” and Malfoy’s face goes from mocking to furious faster than Hari can blink.

“Do try to not bait the help, it’s incredibly tiring to find more.” Tom drawls from behind him.

 

Malfoy says nothing, although his glare is still burning a hole into Hari’s head. Hari grins, a wild, feral thing and if looks could kill Malfoy would be dead.

 

He turns back to Tom: clearly Malfoy wasn’t going to step out of line with his boss standing right there. Tom is staring at him, eyes glinting in a way that makes Hari nervous and for just a moment, just a moment he contemplates saying yes.

 

_For just a moment he sees Tom, standing in the cafe, asking him on a date, eyes dark and Hari aches aches_

 

Hari turns and walks away. Doesn’t bother saying goodbye, just turns and leaves, and Tom’s laughter rings loudly behind him.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that there would only be one more chapter but....Tom decided that was a lie. Hari didn't want to cooperate and yeah....there's more to come, hopefully much sooner than this one came about. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry, blame Tom!


	4. unraveling

_Sometimes, he dreams of cupboards and too small beds and the ever present smell of parchment…_

 

Tom Riddle grows up in a world that feels wrong, grows up with this bone deep feeling that he was meant for more than this and at night he dreams…

 

_Dreams of a snake winding around his feet. Of people bowing before him and always, always of a boy with eyes that are just a little too green, a little too bright._

 

Tom Riddle dreams and fate schemes and somewhere, in another life, a boy with eyes the color of death stands fearlessly before the most feared wizard of the age.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

December 1st, 2000 | 2:20pm

 

Tom watches Hari walk away. Watches him try to pretend that he’s not running, even as he tries to be subtle about watching Tom in the windows he passes.

 

Tom watches and feels something curiously like disappointment settle in his chest. Maybe disappointment, maybe rage, maybe a curious mix of the two; because Hari Potter would be _his_ and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

 

There was nothing anyone could do to stop him really, and sometimes that left a discontented feeling swimming through his chest. As if something was missing. As if he almost wanted someone to be there, fighting him every step of the way.

 

But Tom was used to having irrational feelings follow him throughout life. He had mastered them and succeeded regardless.

 

_Had mastered them until a boy with green, green eyes that shone just a little too bright entered his life._

 

He spares the fleeing boy one more glance before turning on his heel and walking off, leaving Lucius to scramble and catch up. He gets so little entertainment these days, that baiting Lucius was fast becoming an art form.

 

But still, there was something odd going on with him, with Hari; with the coffee shop that held far too many familiar faces, considering it held only people he had never met.

There was something going on, and Tom was beginning to feel restless from the lack of answers. Was beginning to feel that Hari was the key to it all.

 

_(...somewhere in the distance Fate’s laugh rings through his head like a half forgotten memory and Tom breaks out into a cold sweat for absolutely no reason at all… )_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

December 5th, 2000 | 3:30pm.

 

Hari has taken to looking over his shoulder everywhere he goes. An action that has garnered more than a few worried looks and long, piercing stares from Hermione.

 

Tom Riddle, however,had a worrying habit of showing up when Hari least wanted him too. Which was always. Regardless the sentiment was the same.

 

Tom Riddle had an uncanny talent for appearing right when he was least wanted.

 

So, it should come as no surprise that when Hari finally lets his guard down, he shows up like a dark foreboding omen.

 

Hari’s laying in the park, enjoying the end of exams and the peace of just laying in the middle of the grass, the sun on his face. There is nothing but the hum of the city in the background and and he really just wants to stay frozen in this moment forever.

 

However, fate has other plans for him.

 

Just as he feels himself drifting off a voice breaks the peaceful haze that has settled over him.

 

“I must have been very good this year to have been graced with your presence twice in one week.” a voice drawls from above him, the smirk evident before Hari even opens his eyes.

 

Hari jerks up, squinting, and for just a moment he feels his heart stop. Something in him freezes and quakes and he feels something he can barely comprehend whisper through his mind.

 

_There is only power and those too weak too see it…..Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?_

 

And then the moment passes and it’s just Tom, silhouetted by the sun and staring down at him. Hari flops back down onto the grass with a disgruntled huff.

 

“Can I help you, Riddle?” he almost closes his eyes again, but that feeling of discontent is still lingering at the base of his spine, he can’t quite bring himself to  be that vulnerable.

 

Tom arches an eyebrow and then proceeds to slowly drag his eyes down Hari’s body.

Hari flushes, immediately sitting up and trying to put some space between them.

 

“Oh, Hari, I believe you already know exactly how you can help me.” Tom says, his voice dark. And there’s something in his eyes that has Hari flushing even harder, the red surely showing even on his skin.

 

“If that’s all you want, you can leave then. The answer is still no.” and if his voice shakes on the last word, well neither of them seem inclined to mention it. Even if Tom’s eyes do narrow for a second.

 

Hari thinks that Tom might actually leave, might actually turn and walk away. But Tom considers him for a second and then with more grace than Hari has ever managed, drops to the ground and leans back on his arms, eyes closed.

 

Hari considers him for a moment, but Tom really seems content to just lay in the grass with Hari and enjoy the sun. So, Hari keeps the peace and says nothing.

 

_And if at some point they end up close enough that their arms touch well, neither of them are going to mention it._

_._

_._

_._

_Picture this._

 

_The sun setting and a world bathed in orange and gold with two boys, always the same two boys._

 

_One with eyes that are too green, too bright. One with eyes like ice, like snow and the mountain caps._

 

_Picture this._

 

_Two boys and in every life, one always dies._

_._

_._

_._

_._

 

December 8th, 2000 | 5:30am

 

Hari wakes up Friday with that sense of foreboding still lingering in his stomach. He feels as if he’s spent the past few days walking on eggshells, waiting for the universe to blow up in his face.

 

He drags himself downstairs, expecting everyone else to still be asleep, but his mum is sitting at the kitchen table, absently reading.

 

She glances up at where he’s paused in the doorway, a soft smile directed at him.  He suddenly realizes that he’s barely seen his parents the last few weeks.

 

“What are you doing up so early?” he asks, going over to give her a hug.

 

“Odan had a nightmare and I was trying to get him back to sleep.” she says, speaking around a yawn.

 

He grimaces, “He’s been having a lot of nightmares lately hasn’t he?”

 

She huffs, “Mostly because he keeps watching horror movies that he shouldn’t.” the exasperation is clear in her voice and Hari smiles.

 

“How are Mari and Sara?” he asks. He knows he lives in the same house as them, but it feels like he never sees anyone.

 

“They’re good, we’re all good. Mari’s still debating on which Uni she wants to go to, and Sara is still terrorizing the school.”

 

There’s a long pause as Hari makes himself a sandwich.  He can feel her eyes on him.

 

“How have you been, Hari?” there’s something else hidden under those words, “I feel like I see Hermione more than I see you.”

 

“Ah, well I’ve been spending a lot of time at the shop. Christmas time really has people craving coffee.” he gives an awkward laugh, not liking the way she’s staring at him. That feeling of dread is still curled up in the bottom of his stomach and he just wants this day to be over.

 

“Hermione mentioned that you met Tom Riddle a few months ago.”

 

Hari stares.

 

What does she want him to say to that?

 

She’s still staring at him. Eyes so like his own, and all he can see in them is worry.

 

She lets out a sigh after a few moments. After it becomes clear that Hari has nothing to say to that.

 

“I just worry, deerheart.” she says, standing and coming over to where he’s leaning against the counter.

 

Something cold trickles down his spine. She hasn’t called him that in years.

 

“I’ll be fine, mum.” he says, willing his voice not to shake and she smiles at him, a small sad thing that does nothing to reassure him.

 

“I know you will. My brave, brave boy.” she presses a kiss to his cheek, “Now go on before you’re late to work.”

 

“I can’t be late, mum.” He lets out a shaky laugh, “I own the place.” and then he’s out the door.

 

_(...but he could have sworn as he left that she whispered something else at his back…)_

_The boy-who-lived no longer exists_

_But his troubles just keep following you don’t they?_

 

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

 

He arrives at the shop right as Luna is unlocking the doors and he shoots her an apologetic grin.

 

“Sorry I’m late! I got distracted talking to my mum.”

 

Peak flies by, and it isn’t until he’s sitting in the back with Luna that he allows himself to really think about what his mom whispered as he left. He doesn’t think he was meant to hear that last sentence but it had felt ominous.

 

“There are a lot of wrackspurts around your head today, Hari.” Luna’s soft voice jerks him out of his thoughts and he smiles.

“You’ve been saying that to me a lot lately, Luna.” he says, trying not to falter under her gaze. He’s been friends with her six years, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to how piercing her gaze is.

 

“Do you believe in past lives, Hari?” he jerks, nearly spilling the coffee he’s holding. Startled green eyes meet pale blue, and Hari feels that sense of foreboding begin to creep up his throat again.

 

He wants to say no, wants to tell her to stop being ridiculous. But this is Luna, and there is something oddly serious in her gaze. He still feels as if this feeling is going to crawl its way up his throat and choke him.

 

“Do you?” he finally manages to choke out.

 

“I believe in a lot of things, Hari Potter. I’m not sure you want to hear all of them.”

 

“Is there a point to this conversation, Luna?”

 

She smiles, a bright cold thing. “In this life, you are just Hari. Don’t waste that.”

 

“Just Hari. As opposed to what?” he asks, throat dry, regretting the question as soon as he asks.

 

She blinks at him, looking baffled that he doesn’t already know the answer.

 

“You’re just Hari instead of Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived.”

 

The last thing he sees before blacking out is Luna’s wide eyes and her hands, reaching out to catch him as he falls.

 

_There’s a diary drowning in ink_

_A diadem hanging from a statue_

_A tower bathed in red_

_A boy with red red red hair_

_And a man with no nose, no hair_

 

_“Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived, come to die.”_

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, I updated twice in one month??
> 
> Also this story has just officially become my longest piece of writing on AO3!! 
> 
> Let's see if I can get this done before the Tomarry Spring exchange starts!


	5. Twirling through eternity with only you

_ Sometimes Hari dreams of a boy with red hair and kind eyes. A boy who always stands on his right and it feels as if he belongs there.  _

 

_ “Why is it when something happens it is always you three?” a lady’s voice whispers through the dream. _

 

_ “Believe me, Professor, I’ve been asking myself the same question for six years.” the boy answers and Hari turns to look at him but gets momentarily distracted by Hermione standing on his left. _

 

_ Always you three.  _

 

_ Where did they go wrong? Why in this world was it only Hari and Hermione?  _

 

_ The dream morphs suddenly into a burning room and Hari flying through it.  _

 

_ A shack in the middle of the woods and the hissing of snakes.  _

 

_ A balding man, surrounded by potions and pictures of students.  _

 

_ “A horcrux is an object…” _

 

_ And then it all fades until nothing is left but Hari, standing in a blindingly white train station.  _

 

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

Hari wakes with a start and for a moment all he can remember is being in that train station. Being surrounded by nothing but blinding whiteness as far as the eye could see. 

 

But then the moment passes and he looks around to realize that he’s in his room. Hermione is at his desk, scribbling away at something and he can faintly hear his mum’s voice drifting up the stairs. 

 

“Hermione?” he croaks out, voice hoarse. 

 

Hermione whips around so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t fall straight off the chair. 

 

“Hari! You’re awake!” the relief in her voice makes his stomach hurt. 

 

“What happened?”  he asks, taking the glass of water that she holds out. 

 

“You were at work, Luna called us saying that you had blacked out. She wouldn’t tell us what you were doing before you blacked out though.” he can hear suspicion in her voice as she frowns down out at him. 

 

_ The boy who lived _

 

He jerks, the blood draining from his face. The phrase drifts into his head from nowhere and he suddenly remembers the conversation that he had been having with Luna. Remembers the feeling of foreboding that had crept up over him. 

 

_ Why is it always you three? _

 

He remembers bits and pieces of his dreams as well. Dreams that had left his stomach swimming with unease and a growing sense of loss. Of wrongness. 

 

“Hari?” Hermione asks, voice hesitant, hands hovering over him. 

 

He stares at her, a thousand words crawling up his throat and he feels as if he’s going to fucking choke from it. 

 

“I…” he cuts off, hands coming up to grip his hair. 

 

Hermione stares at him, eyes wide and scared and he  _ hates hates hates _ that he put that look there. 

 

“Do you believe in past lives?” He blurts out, that dream still circling round and round in his head. 

 

The color drains from her face so quickly that he knows he’s hit some kind of nerve. 

 

He feels like he’s on the precipice and he’s one wrong  ( _ right) _ move from falling. 

 

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just stares at him, eyes wide and hands shaking. He reaches out, very gently intertwines their fingers and gives her a hand a soft squeeze. 

 

She swallows, eyes flickering away from him for a second. 

 

“Sometimes…” she starts, falters, voice breaking over the word. “Sometimes, when I look at Pansy all I can hear is her voice sneering the word mudblood at me.” there’s something sad in her voice and Hari watches her quietly. 

 

“The first time I met you, I heard almost an echo of myself saying  _ ‘you told us once years ago that it wasn’t too late to turn back. We’re here till the end, Harry’ _ but I sounded older….”she hesitates, licks her lips. “I sounded like I do now actually.”

 

She stops talking, eyes distant and he wonders what other moments she’s thinking of. 

 

“Do you ever feel like we’re missing someone?” He asks quietly and watches her face flicker with some emotion he can’t place. 

 

_ Something like longing, like resignation  _

 

“Yeah, sometimes I wake up and it feels like my chest is going to cave in from loss.” She says and he closes his eyes 

 

_ Feels the pressure build, the edge of the cliff under his feet and knows that there will be no turning back from what is coming  _

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

December 9th, 2000 | 10:00am

 

Riddle Inc. looms high above Hari’s head. A towering building of dark glass and a never ending stream of rich looking business men going in and out the doors. 

 

Hari, in comparison, doesn’t look like he should be within five feet of this building. A feeling enforced by the looks being thrown at him. 

 

He steels himself, draws a deep breath and marches through the front doors. Head held high, shoulders thrown back. He knows,  _ the same way he knows his mother's voice _ , that Tom will want to see him. He just has to convince everyone else of that. 

 

He feels even more out of place the farther into the building he gets. Everyone in the building is white and he stands out like a sore thumb. He wouldn’t normally notice something like that but the looks that are being thrown his way by most of the people in the building are nothing short of malicious. 

 

He keeps walking, straight to the front desk, where he’s surprised to note that he recognizes the girl sitting there. Astoria Greengrass. A year above him in school and the daughter of one of the main benefactors of the school. 

 

She’s been staring at him since he walked in, eyebrows as high as they’ll go, hands on her hip and Hari sighs to himself. 

 

“Potter. What are you doing here?” she bites the words out as if it physically pains her to speak to him. 

 

“I need to speak to Riddle.” he mutters, willing his face to not heat up. Willing his shoulders to stay thrown back, wills his spine to stay straight. He will  _ not _ bend in front of these people. 

 

He hadn’t thought her eyebrows could go any higher but she goes and proves him wrong. Her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hair line before she lets out a sharp laugh that echoes through the building. A laugh that draws eyes from everyone in the room. 

 

“You must be joking.” she says, voice bright with humour. “Even if you weren’t, well,  _ you _ . You don’t just walk in and expect to speak with Riddle. There are protocols to follow.”

 

He narrowly resists the urge to grind his teeth. Of course there are protocols and he knows that if this was anyone else he’d never make it past the front desk. He also knows that Tom will be delighted, in that strange way of his, to know that Hari is here. 

 

“Trust me, Astoria. Call him. Tell him Hari Potter is here. He’ll want to see me.” She narrows her eyes and he watches her eyes flicker to the guards. “Astoria, trust me. You don’t want him to find out I was here and that you turned me away.” 

 

She hesitates for another long second but he’s gotten under her skin now. She doesn’t want to risk whatever would happen if she became the focus of Tom’s displeasure. 

 

And god, doesn’t that just make something in Hari wither. Because he has no idea what would happen if Tom did find out. He’d taken a wild guess that it wouldn’t be pleasant but he really has no idea. All he has are these half formed memories, none of which involve Tom, and this feeling that it’s all connected back to him. 

 

_ For neither can live while the other survives. Fate is twirling in delight in the middle of time. The charade ends soon. _

 

She picks up the phone and they stand there and stare at each other, until Hari hears the faint sound of Tom’s voice on the other end. 

 

“Yes sir, I didn’t want to bother you but there’s a boy down here who claims that you will want to see him despite the fact that he doesn’t have an appointment.” she pauses, fingers tightening on the phone. “Hari Potter.” 

 

He sees the moment when she realizes he was right. Watches the blood drain from her face, her hands begin to shake. Watches the way her eyes flicker to him, to the door, to the guards and back again. 

 

“Right away, sir. We’ll be right up.” she hangs the phone up with a decisive click, despite her hands still imperceptibly trembling. 

 

Hari smiles, cocks his head. “He told you to not let me leave, didn’t he?” and she swallows but nods anyways. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of changing my mind.” 

 

Hari doesn’t remember most of the ride up to Tom’s office. Only remembers scoffing to himself, because of course his office is as high up as it can go. 

 

He keeps thinking about dark eyes and hands brushing and a voice in the back of his mind whispering  _ Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now? _

 

He’s missing something, feels as if he can taste it on his tongue. This too sweet, sticky, tacky flavor. Coating his mouth, his throat, until he wants to fucking choke from it. 

 

The elevator opens and he follows Astoria down the hallway to a set of white, double doors. 

 

He feels almost like he’s walking in a dream. The whiteness of the doors drawing his mind back to the train station. To the neverending blankness. To that hollow feeling in his chest. 

 

He takes a breath. 

 

The door opens. 

.

.

.

.

.

Their eyes meet and the moment hangs, drawn tight. 

 

Their eyes meet and Hari forgets how to breath. Forgets how to do anything other than be devoured by Tom’s eyes. 

 

“Hari Potter.” Tom says his name slowly, delicately. Like he’s savoring it and Hari’s heart trips, skips, lodges itself somewhere near the bottom of his ribcage. “I didn’t think I would ever see you here. Not of your own volition.” 

 

“I had a question for you.” he says, eyes still locked on Tom’s. His voice strong despite the fact that it feels as if his brain has turned off. 

 

Tom’s lips quirk, “Really. And this question was so important that you had to come all the way up here?” 

 

Hari breathes in, licks his lips and  _ fucking burns _ as Tom’s eyes trace the motion. 

 

“You’re the final piece.” he says and watches the small quirk disappear from Tom’s lips. 

 

Tom considers him for a long moment, eyes dark. 

 

“Come here.” Tom finally says, motioning to the space next to him. 

 

Hari hesitates for a second before slowly walking around the desk. Tom turns in his chair to face him, legs spread wide and eyes still intent on his face. 

 

“Come closer.” he murmurs and Hari hesitates. This is the coffeeshop all over again but this also feels inevitable. Feels like, how could this end in any other way. 

 

He steps forward, into the space between Tom’s legs and he can feel the heat radiating from his body. Tom’s eyes light up with triumph. With a savage delight that makes Hari want to turn and run. Forget this entire moment but he stays. Stays rooted to the floor and Tom’s hand have found their way to his hips and his mouth is dry and his brain feels like cotton and he is fucking  _ disintegrating.  _

 

“The final piece to what?” Tom asks, hands tight on his hips. Tight enough to bruise. 

 

“Do you believe in past lives?” he murmurs, lips numb.

 

Tom’s eyes flash with something he can’t identify and he doesn’t know who moves first but one of them is rising and one of them is falling and they’re twisting, lips parted, hands reaching and it’s just _ heat heat heat _ . 

 

He likes to think Tom moved first, seeing how as he’s now backed up against the desk. Tom is pressed up against him, so close that he can feel every inch of his body against his own and his hands are on Tom’s shoulders and there’s something crawling up his spine, something whispering through his brain. 

 

“Hari Potter.” Tom whispers, tearing his lips from Hari’s only to run them down his neck, leaving trails of heat behind. Hari shivers, hands dropping to Tom’s waist. “The boy who lived, come to die.” he murmurs the words into the hollow of Hari’s throat and his breath stutters, heart falters…

 

_ He’s surrounded by people in black, a women’s maniacal laughter rings through the clearing and he burns, burns, burns… _

_ Burns with hatred. Burns with love. Burns with righteousness.  _

 

He freezes and meets Tom’s eyes and in the space between one breath and the next he  _ shatters _ . 

 

Tom grins, a savage, bright thing, and Hari screams as he remembers  _ everything. _

 

He rocks forward, head clenched between his hands and Tom, Tom fucking Riddle, holds him through it. 

 

_ There’s a boy with red, red, red hair. You’ve got dirt on your nose, didn’t you know. _

 

_ A boy with round cheeks and bright eyes. Ginny with her shining hair and cheerful smile.  _

 

_ Hogwarts burning to the ground and always always always  _

 

_ Tom Riddle smiling at him in the chamber of secrets.  _

 

_ Voldemort in the graveyard. Voldemort in the ministry. Voldemort standing in the great hall and falling to the ground. _

 

_ Ron and Hermione always by his side and Tom, Voldemort always the enemy.  _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

 

He breathes in. 

 

_                He doesn’t know why he’s never met Ron.  _

 

Breathes out. 

 

_               He kissed Tom Riddle. _

 

Breathes in. 

 

_              His parents are alive. _

 

Breathes out.

 

_             Tom Riddle has his arms around him still. _

 

Breathes in. 

 

_             Sirius is still still fucking dead. _

 

Breathes out. 

 

_ There is still something whispering through the back of his mind that he can’t quite grasp and he had thought Tom Riddle was the answer to it all but he is only the beginning.  _

.

.

.

.

 

Tom is still holding him. Hands idly tracing patterns on his back, breath ruffling the top of his hair. There’s no need to ask whether or not he remembers. Not with the last thing he said still ringing in Hari’s ears. 

 

Tom goes still as he straightens up, hands halting their movement and Hari could swear he almost stops breathing. 

 

He meets Tom’s eyes and shifts, rolls his shoulders. There is something electric lingering in the air, something lingering underneath his skin. 

Having these memories should have destroyed this chemistry between them but if anything it’s only made it stronger. 

 

“You look so fucking beautiful with tears staining your face.”Tom whispers fiercely, one hand coming up to rest on his hair, and Hari swallows around the want climbing up his throat. 

 

“Did you think that when I was tied to the gravestone in fourth year?” he asks, voice hoarse from screaming. 

 

Tom tilts his head, considering the question far more seriously than Hari had expected. 

 

“I think I was too lost in my bloodlust then to appreciate the tears on your face or the rope against your skin.” he seems to consider it for another moment before making a face, “You were also fourteen and I was at least three times your age. Disregarding my lack of sanity we weren’t really each others types then.” 

 

“Is that remorse I hear, Riddle?” he asks mockingly. 

 

Tom snarls “What’s with the last name, Hari. Decide you don’t want this after all?” he asks, pulling his head back vicously and the moan that leaves Hari’s mouth is completely involuntary. 

 

Tom smirks at him but it’s brittle and telling and Hari eyes him, unease still lingering in his bones. 

 

“How much do you remember?” he aks, voice rough. Does his best to ignore Tom’s darkening eyes. 

 

“I remember you killing me.” Hari flinches despite himself. “I remember my wand turning against me and my curse hitting me and I remember…” he pauses, licks his lips and eyes Hari curiously. 

 

“And you remember?” he prompts, voice quite. The whispering in the back of his brain has grown louder. 

 

“I remember every life after that. I remember being an orphan, a businessman, a grocery clerk, a robber, a mafia boss, a sailor, a pirate, a police officer, a politician.” 

 

There’s a long pause, Hari trying to digest the information and then in a hushed voice, as if Tom is scared to even say the phrase out loud. 

 

“And you, Hari Potter. In every life I remember you. I grow up and at eleven inevitably I end up with all these memories fighting for dominance but in all of them you’re there, eyes too fucking green to be human and in every life, in every fucking life..” he pauses, breathes in, breath whistling through his teeth. “In every life you somehow end up being my destruction. Whether that’s loss of life or loss of my career. It’s always you. But not this life, in this life I only remembered a few days ago.“

 

Tom’s eyes have been burning holes through him this entire time and Hari feels the whispering in the back of his mind reach an almost deafening level. 

 

“How many times have I remembered you?” he aks, feeling as if he’s underwater, fingers digging into Tom’s hips hard enough to bruise. 

 

“Never.” he says the word with such finality that Hari is left momentarily teetering on the edge of the precipice and then for one moment, one blinding moment he sees…

 

**.**

 

_ It’s never been a cliff, never been a fall. He’s standing at the train tracks in that blinding white train station, feet half off the platform and there’s a shadowy figure behind him with a voice like eternity.  _

 

_ “Choose well, Harry Potter. I gave you what you asked for. Now give me back what is mine.”  _

 

_ The figure that is him but not him grins, a bright savage thing that he doesn’t recognize.  _

 

_ “You have no power over me. I have been your master for far too many lifetimes now. I made no promises and I shall give you back yours when I feel like it and never before.” _

 

_ The figure lets out a sound that is at once anger and the end of time and the Harry that is him but not him laughs and laughs and laughs.  _

 

**.**

 

He jerks back to himself with a choked gasp and Tom is staring at him with something approaching reverence, something that makes his blood burn and his heart stop and he is falling, collapsing, burning like a dying star-

 

“You’ve never remembered before, Hari Potter. Tell me, what is different now? Tell me why your eyes just turned gold.” Tom’s voice is frenzied, one hand gripping Hari’s hair tight enough that it hurts and one hand having crept up to his throat. 

 

“And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…” he whispers the words and watches Tom’s mouth thin into an angry line. “Tell me, Tom. In this world, this life. Do you have any of that magic left inside of you?” 

 

Tom bares his teeth, anger rippling over his features but he gives a short jerk of his head to indicate no and Hari laughs. A small, soft sound that causes Tom’s hand to clench around his neck. 

 

“You want to see a magic trick?” he whispers, pushes himself even farther into Tom’s space. 

 

He moves one of his hands in between their bodies and summons up the power that he can now feel resting in the back of his mind. 

 

_ “Watch.” _ and in between one second and the next the elder wand lays in his hand and Tom jerks his head up to look at him with blazing eyes. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end of this bit. There should only be one more chapter after this one although it probably won't be as long as this one was.   
> I still have a lot of stories in my head for this universe though, particularly one involving Pansy, Hermione and an absent red head.


End file.
